FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

It was getting late, the mystical aurora lights above Riften waved against the night sky and the chilled air only became colder as the sun faded away on the horizon. A figure hidden in the shadows shifted only slightly from impatience. His sharp, cat-like eyes scouted the roads, waiting for the already late client. Not the first time that this had happened with this particular customer. The hidden man's eyes narrowed and lips curled in anger and a guttural growl barely passed his lips before fading away on the wind.

The man was hidden well in the shadows, aided by his black armor he had earned as a reward from his brotherhood for his numerous kills and blessed by the Night Mother. Still, it did little to guard him from the chill of Skyrim, and only his memories of the warm deserts of his homeland of Elsweyr kept him warm. All this and more caused his patience to fade. Whispering a hissed curse in his native tongue, he prepared to leave, but his feline ears picked up the footsteps of his client coming over the grassy hill.

Maven Black-Briar: possibly the most influential person in all Skyrim who didn't own the title of Jarl. While she was indeed a powerful person, she was wholly insufferable. Pretentious, self-serving, manipulative, ruthless; perhaps if she were part of the Thieves Guild or the Dark Brotherhood, those traits would be admired, but she was just another Nord, nothing more than a spiteful woman. Still, her gold was good and had brought him more than enough business for both the Guild and Brotherhood. However, she was too disrespectful and it was becoming more and more obvious she was a hazard to both his work and his life.

She stopped short of the small pond hidden in the trees, taking note of the Spriggan corpses hidden to the side. Their bodies still giving a faint, green glow as the remainder of their life-sap spilled from their bodies and into the water which would be sucked up by the trees, continuing their cycle of life. Pulling the lantern from her belt, she lit it and set it on the ground next to her. Next was a bag of gold, she shook it as if trying to fish the Khajiit out from the shadows before setting it next to the lantern. That was how they communicated; show the gold then we'll talk. Her proof was there, and so business was to be conducted, the Khajiit appeared as if conjured such as a demon or daedra. Rising from the jet-black darkness itself, he stood opposite her on the far side of the pond.

"Dar Shavir," Maven spoke, crossing her arms with a smug grin on her face that was noticeable from even this distance in the dim light.

"You're late," the Khajiit replied, his face becoming fierce after noting the arrogance in her voice. Fangs bared and feral postures in his hands, letting her see his clawed fingers twitching eagerly at his sides, "Again!"

"Calm down cat," waving him off and rolling her eyes, she nudged the bag with her foot, "I've brought your gold."

"I've been waiting for hours! I have other contracts and priorities! Yet, every time you summon me, whether it be with the Guild or the Brotherhood, you-"

"I said calm down, and watch your tone or I'll have you skinned," she never made threats, he knew this, "Have you forgotten who you're addressing? The only reason you're still breathing is because I allow it."

"I breathe because I wish it, because I have fought for my breath instead of simply buying it."

"You ingrate!" Maven hissed wickedly through her clenched teeth, arms unfolding into an aggressive stance, "Have you forgotten that I own you and your lousy Guilds? I allow them the stay in my city, in the disgusting Ratway! On my order, the guards turn their eyes to your actions! All I have to do is say the word and Delvin, Brynjolf and the rest will spend the rest of their days rotting in a cell!" in an afterthought, a cruel smile formed on her lips. "I know my son would love to meet Vex, it has been some time since he's known the touch of a woman, and I've heard he loves the look of a woman in chains."

"FUS!" Dar Shavir shouted in the ancient tongue. The lantern tipped and extinguished from the force of his voice and the coins spilled at Maven's feet. While she didn't fall herself, she stumbled, raising a hand to guard her face, making her show weakness. When she regained her composure, Dar Shavir wasn't surprised to see her lack of surprise. She was a well-informed woman; of course she knew he was Dohvakiin.

"It's not right that a worthless cat is the Dohvakiin," she spoke steadily and calmly though her eyes burned with hate, "Thu'ums should only be allowed to be used by the Nords."

Dar Shavir straightened himself, his hands relaxed and his voice calm once more, though his eyes seemed to almost glow with anger as he watched Maven move. Her hands slipped behind her to a satchel she carried and drew a folded piece of parchment, a wax seal baring the crest of the Black Briar house on it. With a flick of her wrist, she threw it over the water and landed at Dar Shavir's feet.

"No more words from now on. Only business," she bent down to pick up her lantern but leaving the gold where it was. "I'll expect your services at reduced prices for your insolence from now on."

Before she could step away, a flash of heat and light came from behind her. The flames licked the hem of her dress and singed her hair. Ducking quickly before the flames consumed her body, she rolled to the side and away from the fire, glaring in astonishment at the Khajiit who was spewing the fire from his fingertips. It was only a moment before the flames dispersed, flicking for an instant longer as the steady stream of fire faded, leaving only ashes in the air which were immediately whisked away by the wind, and her letter nowhere to be seen.

"You are no longer my client. Therefore, our business is through, Maven. You request only myself to do your jobs, but I am not your personal assassin or cutpurse," Dar Shavir turned his back to the astonished Nord woman, glancing over his shoulder as he made his way for the trees, "As the leader of both the Dark Brotherhood and the Thieves Guild, I'm ordering them not to take any more contracts from you."

"You damned cat!" she shouted, consumed by her rage. Not a single person had spoken to her like this and lived, "I'll have all of you executed! I swear it! Both your Guild and Brotherhood will fall, and I'll carve my names on the broken bodies of each of your subordinates!"

She felt the dirt hit her ankles before she heard the rush of air parted by the arrow or the _THWIP_of the bow being fired. The arrow lodged deeply into the ground directly between her feet made her flinch only slightly. Dar Shavir glared at her, his teeth bared and a powerful growl which encapsulated the small glade and made the water ripple between them. He was ready to kill.

"Do not mistake my kindness for weakness, Black Briar. You know what I'm capable of," his bow was poised and ready with another arrow already loaded, fixed at her chest, "I'll let you live, but only this once. As a favor. But, should I ever see you again, threatening any of my houses, I'll cut that silver tongue of yours out, sell it to the caravans and throw your body to the Slaughterfish. Then, I'll kill you."

Before Maven could reply, Dar Shavir was gone, vanished back into the shadows, leaving her to curse quietly to nothing before turning around and stomping back towards Riften. But in her mind, she was already making plans for revenge. After all, she was a cruel, calculating woman, and worst of all, relentless.

Dar Shavir rode upon Shadowmere faster than the wind itself could move. He had precious little time to get to the Guild before Maven would sick her hounds, disguised as the city guards, upon the Ratway. He had angered her, not just as a person, but as a representative and leader of the thieves. It was no longer just his neck on the line, but those he considered family; his brothers and sisters of the night and shadows. Then it dawned on him as Shadowmere stopped at the edge of Riften Lake, it wasn't just the Thieves who were in danger, but also the Brotherhood. He knew how Maven worked. She wouldn't stop just at killing him, but would destroy everything he had built.

The Dark Brotherhood was at his command, but were also his family, and their only reliable sources of income were their contracts. They would never knowingly kill him without just cause. Even though they were a guild of assassins, they had their code and their morals. They trusted each other without hesitation, but they were still mortal, susceptible to mistakes and being misled, and they likely would be if Maven did the Black Sacrament soon. But he couldn't be in two places at once; he had to help his thieves first for they were the closest and would, without a doubt, be the first struck by Maven's wrath.

Dar Shavir jumped from the horses back and pulled a quill and roll of paper from the satchel, quickly scribing instructions to Nazir:

From this time onward, no Brother or Sister is to accept any contracts from Maven Black Briar or any of her associates until I give further notice, and all members are to evacuate the Sanctuary and report to Windstad Manor to the north of Ustengrav. I shall explain upon my arrival in three days.

Sithis guide you.

-Dar Shavir

"Take this to the Sanctuary, and be sure that none stop you," Dar Shavir spoke to the horse who whinnied a reply of understanding as he placed the parchment back into the satchel, "Make sure Nazir sees this. I know you will not fail me," with that, he gave Shadowmere a pat telling him to be off. With a haunting neigh, he reared up and sped into the shadows, sinking into them with a puff of smoke and was gone.

Now he had to take care of what he could do now. Taking a deep breath, he dove into the water and swam towards the sewer entrance as fast as he could; dodging the lights of the guard and eyes of the Argonians then climbing into the loose grate high on a wall. He undressed as he moved; tucking his Assassin's clothing into his bag and retrieving his thieves' leather. Though the two factions worked closely together, especially Delvin, there was no need for any of his thieves to know that he was loyal to more than one, else sew the seed of doubt.

Brynjolf was the first to notice the Khajiit fall from the secret entrance and dashed over to his fellow Nightingale who was panting harshly, fur soaked through. Every step squished and left a dark puddle behind him.

"By the Nine! Lad, what's happened to you to get you so flustered?" he asked, helping Dar Shavir stand, leading him to a bed to catch his breath. But his fellow guild mate was too riled up to sit still for more than a second, and with a deep breath, stood once more and led Brynjolf to a secluded corner, out of earshot of their fellow thieves.

"We must hurry, my friend," Dar Shavir said quickly, "We must load up as much gold and treasure we can and leave."

"Whoa, there lad," Brynjolf replied and put a cautious hand on his friends shoulder, "What's the matter? You're talking nonsense!" He scanned Dar Shavir's face, finding only worry as his friend took another deep breath.

"I'm afraid I've done something terrible," Dar Shavir confessed, "I've offended Maven Black Briar. I told her we won't take any more of her contracts then shot at and burned her. She'll need to speak with the Jarl before the guards are sent, so we have maybe until sunrise before they arrive," the Khajiit's voice, which normally had a natural purr to it, quaked with worry, "And you know how the Black Briars work; they won't take prisoners."

"Ye Gods!" Brynjolf replied astonished and stepped away from his friend, "What in Oblivion possessed you to do such a thing? You know what she's capable of!"

"I know."

"She's been our greatest benefactor!"

"I know!"

"Lad! We need her!"

"No, we don't!" now it was Dar Shavir's turn to give a calming hand, placing it on Bryjolf's shoulder and spoke more surely than the Nord had ever heard him speak. "It wasn't Maven who stopped Mercer. It wasn't her out there risking her neck to bring gold in. She only told the guards to turn the other way occasionally while in Riften. But she's no longer useful to us. We are able to do that. We have been doing that. Because of our work, our blood, and our skill, our influence has grown beyond these stone walls. The Guild's influence now covers all Skyrim."

Brynjolf had to admit, he was right. Thanks to his friend, the guild now had a foothold in all of the major cities in Skyrim; from Riften to Solitude. But it didn't change the fact that Dar Shavir alone was responsible for what would come. Just as the Guild had friends outside of Riften, so did Maven, and she was viewed by many as an upstanding citizen.

"But lad! This is our home!" he turned in frustration, but Dar Shavir followed him, blocking him from walking away.

"Strong walls do not make a home, my friend, and stone structures don't make our guild. Those who we trust at our backs are. They- WE are the guild. You know this, because you taught me this. Please, as a man who has fought beside you and will gladly do so again, I ask for your help," he held out a furred hand, begging for a moment of forgiveness and trust. Brynjolf thought for no longer than a moment, and in that instant recalled everything that the two had been through. Then with a stressed sigh, shook hands.

"You know that there will be a lot of questions and many who will be angry at having to leave this place."

"I will answer for my actions once we are all safe, and will take any punishment that is given," Dar Shavir spoke truthfully and gave a smile of thanks.

"I know you will. You're a good man," Brynjolf smiled and turned to the center of the room with Dar Shavir beside him. Standing at the center of the small bridge over the stale water, lit entirely by the light coming down from the grate high above, he called to the guild.

"My friends! I have dire news," every last member in the room turned to him and listened intently. It was rare to be addressed like this and even the members who occupied the front bar came to hear the commotion.

"I'm afraid we must leave. I've just been informed that our Guild has lost the trust of the Black Briars," several voices stirred through the small crowd, but Brynjolf spoke over them, calling the attention back to himself, "We all know what the Black Briar's are capable of, which is why we must hurry. At dawn, Riften's Guards will be in the Ratway, and I plan to be as far away from here as possible. Now, I know you all have many question, but they will have to wait until later."

"Grab as much gold as you can carry. Fill your bags, your satchels or anything that you can run with. Unfortunately, our larger treasures-," Brynjolf lowered his head shamefully, unable to believe what he was about to say. Biting his lip, he looked around to the incredulous faces of his allies, taking a moment before continuing, "...we will have to leave behind. Carry anything that won't burden or slow you down. If you have a horse, load up as much as it can. But because of their weight, the chests will have to stay."

As he finished, the voices became louder and unruly, each demanding answers as to why everything they had worked for had to be left behind. Everyone knew that pockets and sacks alone weren't enough to take all of the gold, jewelry, and trinkets they had 'earned' over time. Most would be left to be taken by the guards and Maven. Though he was the Guild Master, Dar Shavir felt he didn't spend enough time to get the respect Brynjolf had, but time was wasting and something had to be done. He stepped forward and took Brynjolf's spot under the light, stealing the attention of the crowd.

"My fellow Thieves! I feel your anger. But do not let your emotions cloud what you know we must do. The longer we stay here, the less time we have to escape. We will be outnumbered and over run, and our Guild will fade away if we are caught. You will lose gold tonight, but you will have your lives. And with that, you may once again gain fortune. Gold is not scarce, it's in every pocket, every chest, every shop and home. Leave a hundred behind, so you may gain a thousand."

His name still carried weight in this hall, and though he noticed a few still wanting answers to their questions, they quickly dispersed to do as they were told. Many already have gold dropping from their pockets and bags, heading to the Ratway and cemetery entrance. However, two from the group stayed behind and crossed the stone bridge to confront the two men at the center.

"What in Oblivion is going on?" Vex nearly shouted, motioning widely to the others gathering their treasures.

"Took the words right out of my mouth," Delvin crossed his arms behind Vex, both demanding the answers that the rest were asking during their speeches.

"Ask him," Brynjolf said and rolled his head to the Khajiit and placed his hands on his own hips.

Dar Shavir straightened himself, knowing that these two at least deserved to know. So he told them everything he told Brynjolf; meeting with Maven, the refusal to work for her, the arrow, the fire. All the time he watched Vex's anger grow while Delvin stayed stoic, but Dar Shavir could see his muscles tense.

"... That's why we must leave. I truly am sorry for-" he was cut short by Vex's fist colliding with his cheek. Her arm came down again as he stumbled backwards, but her fist fell short thanks to the other two men holding her back. She cursed and spat at him, her arms reaching out towards him to get in another shot. But Dar Shavir only chuckled and turned to her.

"Ahhh, I deserved that."

"Damn right you did! And there will be plenty more!"

"I'm sure there will be, but save it until later," he rubbed his cheek and hissed quietly at his own touch, "Please, Vex, right now we must gather what we can and leave."

"Yeah? And go where?" she threw the arms off of her and leaned threateningly towards the Khajiit, "Where are we supposed to go now?"

"Anywhere. There are many safe houses in other cities we may go to until another hall is built, and bigger fortunes to be gained as well," she stared into his eyes, nostrils flared as if searching for another reason to hit him. But he was right, there was little time left and the vault hadn't even been opened yet. She yelled as she turned and went to her bed to gather her most valuable possessions. Brynjolf gave a sigh of relief and Delvin began to laugh, both turning to their leader, relieved that Vex had only hit him.

"Well, gotta say that she held her temper rather well," said Delvin as he stepped up to Dar Shavir, "Oh, and uh, just expect a few from me as well," he gave a soft slap to the Khajiit's armored chest as he passed on his way towards the vault.

"You're going to have to expect me to get in a few if things go belly up," Brynjolf said smiling, but was far from joking and joined Delvin with his key to help open the vault. Dar Shavir sighed, knowing that things with the guild were going to be hectic for the next few months, but they've survived longer and much worse than a change of venue. Clearing his thoughts, he grabbed a bag from a nearby table and headed towards the vault to help. In less than an hour, the entire guild was gone.

He had three days to make it to Windstad Manor. He knew that he should rush there right away, but his body was tired and strained from hauling the gold away to a spot agreed upon by Brynjolf, Vex, Delvin and himself. It was especially long and strenuous on himself with Shadowmere busy. Still, it was done, and now his body ached for rest, and there was only one place he would want to go...

The familiar rattling of the door being unlocked stirred the Argonian from his sleep while the squeaky hinges as the door opened made him wake fully. He glanced to the candle which was still burning with less than half melted, so he knew that dawn had yet to come. Only one person would be coming this late which filled him with joy, but also remorse knowing that the time he'd be home would be brief.

As he threw off the covers, he heard the pitter-patter of their adoptive children's feet running toward their papa. Their tired but excited voices called out to him for his attention, asking if their papa had brought anything home from his adventures. Stepping from the bedroom and glancing over the balcony, he saw his Khajiit husband pulling gifts from his knapsack for their children; a doll for their daughter and a wooden sword for their son. Their eyes brightened then hugged him tight, saying "Thank you" over and over. The Argonian smiled from the balcony then made his way down the stairs, clearing his throat to announce himself as well as pull the children's attention away from their papa.

"Now kids, it's late," the kids looked down at the ground with their toys in their hands, "and I'm sure your papa is very tired from his journeys. Go back to bed, he can play with you tomorrow."

"Aw, please? Just for a little while?" their daughter pleaded.

"You heard your father," Dar Shavir said and knelt down to their level and pulled them into his furred arms, "The sun set long ago and the moon is bright. Young cubs like yourselves need to sleep if you wish to grow strong." The young Nord children sighed and gave a defeated hug to their Khajiit father before turning and heading back to bed, both of them yawning as they settled under their covers for sleep once more.

Dar Shavir watched his children shuffle up the stairs and back to bed, then turned to his partner. It had been nearly two weeks since he had left and only when he walked through those doors and saw his scaled husband did his heart's burdens seem to be lifted. He smiled as he approached his husband and slid his hands along his hips, linking his fingers on the small of his back just above his tail, pulling him gently against his own body. He could see the tiredness in his eyes; it was early. He thought that, perhaps, he should've stayed at an inn and delayed coming back, but those clawed fingers found their way over his own shoulders and dragged softly through his fur, eliciting a purr from his weary body.

"Ah, it's my love, come to visit," he pressed his scaled cheek against his husband's chest and let his fingers trace up his neck to play with the fur on the back of his head.

"Oh course my beloved Scout," he could tell that the deep purring in his chest was reminding his husband even more of his exhaustion, "I'm sorry for coming in so late. It was my hope to not wake you or the children."

"It's fine my dearest," Scout lifted his head from Dar Shavir's chest and pressed his scaled lips to his husbands furred ones, "I would've wanted to be awake to welcome you home," he felt his husband's hand slide around his body, from his back to his cheek, cupping it gingerly as he kissed him again, letting his lips linger for a moment longer before pulling away. His eyes fell shut during their closeness, but were having trouble opening once again.

"Let's go to bed. It's late and I'm sure you've been working yourself to the bone with your shop and the kids," the Khajiit spoke softly, and taking his husband by the hand, led him up to their own bed. Dar Shavir undressed the Argonian who had apparently fallen asleep in his day clothes, too tired to change, then undressed himself. He laid his husbands body down first before crawling over him and taking his spot behind. His furry hand moved over the scales on his love's back, taking in the wonderful texture his body had before scooting closer, wrapping his body around his mate and pulling the covers over them both.

"Goodnight my love," Dar Shavir whispered, sliding his hand around Scout's body and under his arm, he took his hand, linking fingers with him. Scout gave a loving squeeze with his own, his heart lifting, feeling his husband's furry body around him, warming him more than the covers did. But with that warmth, he was reminded that soon, his beloved would leave again and he would be left alone in their bed, wondering when or if he'd return. But even with that heavy thought, he smiled, feeling his love here and now. And so, with a smile, he closed his eyes.

"Goodnight love," Scout hissed quietly and fell asleep, dreaming more soundly than he had in weeks.

Morning came far too quickly. The candle was left at only a flicker and the light which crept through the bottom of their back door was dim. It was barely dawn, and though he felt as if he barely slept at all, Dar Shavir opened his weary eyes. He and his husband lay in the same position they had fallen asleep in, their fingers still intertwined and bodies pressed together for warmth. Smiling, he closed his eyes for a moment longer, letting his lover's comfort spread throughout his body.

With a quiet sigh, he opened his eyes again and slid as softly as he could from their marital bed. After dressing himself, he folded his mate's clothing and set them on the dresser. There was so little he could do for him since various business issues required him to be elsewhere, but he did as much as he could, and for now, this was all he could do.

"Where are you going?" Scout's voice hissed still half asleep. Dar Shavir turned around and saw that he had woken his husband who was rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Walking over to him, he knelt down beside the bed and placed his furred and on top of scaled.

"I'm sorry dearest. I didn't mean to wake you."

"You just got home," he looked pleadingly into the Khajiit's eyes, "Please, don't go just yet."

"I'm sorry, but I must," Dar Shavir looked down, ashamed knowing that his husband must be lonely, even with the kids here. There was a moment of silence between the two, during which neither one moved before Dar Shavir spoke again, "I'll be back in a few days. I promise."

"Love," Scout said looking at the bed covers, "What is it that you do while you're gone?"

Dar Shavir had known that this question would come eventually, and every mental dialogue he came up prior to this seemed to fail him. Of course he couldn't tell his husband that he was a thief and a murderer. He would admit to killing bandits and thugs out of self-defense, but what about admitting that he was the one who had killed The Emperor? That would be something he would take with him to his grave, both because he was ashamed and proud of it. But he had to give him an answer.

"...I do work for the cities. I take orders from the Jarls and various other influential figures," it wasn't a lie, not really.

"Is that why you're gone for so long every time?" Scout looked from the sheets and up to his mate, "Is that why you're leaving so quickly?"

"I'm afraid so," with his free hand, Dar shavir cupped Scout's scaly cheek and leaned in, giving him a parting kiss, "I will rush home as soon as my business is finished."

"Promise?" Scout looked deeply into his loves eyes, the only person in all of Nirn who he felt so strongly for that it made him feel weak.

"On Lady Mara, I swear it," the two embraced and kissed once more before Dar Shavir eased Scout back down and pulled the covers back over his husband, letting him at least rest if he couldn't sleep, and then quietly left the house.

The bag holding his Dark Brotherhood armor hung high in the tree, out of sight from his family or any other passers-by. He climbed as fast as expected for his feline heritage and dropped back down gracefully in a matter of seconds. Throwing it over his back, he began to walk down the cobble road leading away from Falkreath. Closing his eyes, he focused on the void, summoning his mount from the darkness itself. Inside his mind, the echoes of galloping hooves became louder and louder until Shadowmere appeared from the trees, running towards him. The horse stopped before him, prepared to carry him where he needed.

"Did you give Nazir the letter?" he asked, getting a nod from the powerful horse.

"And have they left the sanctuary?

He nodded again, stomping a hoof impatiently.

"Did they take the Night Mother with them?"

Shadowmere turned towards him, neighing loudly out of irritation. His duty was to stay near and obey The Listener at all times. He had heard the conversation between Dar Shavir and Maven and knew that they must hurry. Of course he had made sure that the Night Mother had been sent away before he allowed the sanctuary to be evacuated! Dar Shavir had to chuckle, he never ceased to be amazed at the beast's intelligence.

"You've done well, Shadowmere. Have they arrived at my manor yet?" the only reply he received was her turning to the side, motioning for him to get on. So he did, taking hold of the reigns, they were off, cutting through the mountains and forests. With the horse's speed, they arrived at the manor before nightfall.

The preparations had to be quick, Nazir and Babette left long ago and had been traveling for some time, he was sure of it. It didn't take long for Dar Shavir to set minor traps around the perimeter of his property. They were obvious for any member of his Dark Family, but others would most likely overlook the mystical wards and tripwires hidden in the bushes and shrubbery. The traps were mostly harmless; mild poison traps and weak frost runes which could easily be passed off as simple hunting tricks just in case any innocents happened to get caught in it, but they would alert him to any unwanted trespassers as well.

The only safe route to his forest dwelling was the crude pathway which led straight to the door, and that had to be carefully prepared as well. The only door leading into his dwelling had to be safe-guarded, and he knew just the thing. Reaching into his satchel, he retrieved a unique blade, one that burdened him. Not just because of its weight, but also because of the memory from the one time he had ever used it. He gazed upon the polished blade, seeing only his reflection cast back to him in its cold glow, but his mind's eye was reminded of his former mistress and matron. Her final gift was this blade, and he felt sorrow as he gazed upon it. She was the one who invited him into her family, gave him sanctuary, and he killed her.

Closing his eyes, he suppressed those thoughts and turned to his door. It was far too dark for anyone from a distance to see clearly what he was doing, but the dim lights of candles outside his house door were enough for him. Pressing the point of the dagger against his palm, he cut a straight line downwards, hissing as his blood surfaced. He rolled the flowing blood along his palm, letting it soak into his fur and spreading along his fingers, watching with great interest as the blades ability took effect. The crimson color of his blood began to darken, blacken, as if the void was calling claim to it. Returning his attention to his door, he placed his palm against it, leaving a black handprint in the center of his door.

A voice called to him from the back of his mind, telling him to ask the question which would allow only his Dark Family to enter.

"What is the music of life?" he said to the black imprint, watching the wet blood quickly solidify.

"Answer?" the voice called to him again.

"Silence, my brother." He knew that question and answer had already been used, but he had no way of knowing where either Nazir or Babette were, so the question had to be familiar to allow them entrance.

And with that, the door was sealed to any not of the Brotherhood.

Pain shot through his hand again, more intensely than it had when he cut himself. He opened the door, noting that it shut itself behind him as it did in their Sanctuaries, and rushed to his wash basin. The blood dried quickly, making it somewhat difficult to clean from his fur, but he managed to get it all washed away. His hand glowed with a healing light, ready to seal the wound. But before he cast his magic, he noticed the cut had healed itself, leaving his hand clean and without scar. Although he was intrigued by this, it was late, and he had to prepare for his guests and began cooking dinner for them all.

Babette arrived first, scolding him for reusing a password. Inwardly, he laughed at the strange sight of this young looking girl scolding him, an adult, though he knew it wasn't true considering her vampiric affliction. He could only smile and apologize, offering her a seat at the table near the fireplace which she accepted after noticing the stew and venison he had prepared. And, being the gracious host he was, he offered her something to drink with her meal which was so generously donated to him not too long before he set up the traps by a wandering thug who had attacked him in hopes of easy gold.

Nazir arrived shortly after they sat down, bringing a small group of their initiates who either wandered the house or sat to eat. The Redguard began to scold Dar Shavir about the password issue but Babette interrupted, explaining that she had already lectured him about it. Nazir chuckled and sat down and listened as Babette told her story of how she arrived; tricking some guards who were escorting a prisoner into splitting up, one taking her and the other two with the prisoner.

"It was a long walk after we hid the Nightmother, so I knew that I would need a snack along the way. When I saw them, I rushed behind them yelling, 'Help me! Help me! I got separated from my mommy and daddy and need to get home!' One of them had a soft spot for children, saying that I reminded him of his own daughter and offered to escort me here. We walked all day but stopped when we found a Khajiit caravan where he bought me some candy and a dolly. The candy was good, but I had to fake excitement at the doll; far too juvenile for someone my age and refined tastes. But I thanked him for it and we continued on until about dusk when asked if we could stop. He wanted to rush, but I just pleaded with him, 'Please mister? It's getting really late and I don't like traveling at night! I'm afraid of the dark!' He was like putty in my hands. As he was setting up camp, I called out to him, and when he turned around, that's when I got him. I fed until I was full, leaving him barely alive, just long enough so he could watch as I wiped away his blood with the dolly he bought me," the group laughed with her as she held up the doll, the hand stained with the dried blood.

"Ah, you have the greatest stories Babette," Nazir smiled enthusiastically while rubbing his stomach, satisfied with both story and food. The group fell silent quickly, each with the same question on their mind, but it was Nazir who asked, "So, Listener, care to explain why you had us abandon the Sanctuary?" Dar Shavir inhaled heavily, his full belly inflating uncomfortably. He was not looking forward to this.

So he told them everything, just as he had with the Thieves. His title held much more weight with his Brotherhood since the contracts came from the Nightmother through him, which meant he had a much more active role in this particular group. He finished his story, and silence held for several seconds before Nazir began laughing, quietly at first but grew louder until he was slapping his leg. Several others joined in, though most seemed confused as to why they were laughing.

"That- That's it?" Nazir stifled his laughter just enough to speak somewhat clearly, "Come now, Brother. You had us evacuate our home because of a single woman?"

"You know Maven," Dar Shavir spoke plainly, not sharing in the merriment of his fellow assassins, "She is a sly woman, with enough influence to send an army after us."

"And we are a group of blood thirsty killers!" Nazir leant forward, trying to catch his breath as he calmed down, "I think we could handle a few soldiers."

"I'm sure you thought that when Astrid betrayed us, or have you already forgotten about our felled brothers, lost to treachery and 'a few soldiers'?" Nazir's laughter quickly stopped, as did the initiate's. He hadn't forgotten about the tragedy; it's true that they had been bested that day by a small group of soldiers. Only three of the original sanctuary survived that night. Dar Shavir crossed his arms and waited for Nazir's response.

"You're right, Brother," he bowed his head solemnly, "I suppose I have been taking our good fortune for granted as of late. You may have saved our family from another slaughter."

"Your humility, while refreshing, does not suit you, Nazir," the Khajiit chuckled and smiled then motioned for the Redguard to raise his head proudly once more.

"Very well, Listener," Nazir straightened himself, "You truly are a good Brother to have. Now, where do we go from here?"

The mood lightened drastically as Dar Shavir explained how they would conduct their business similar to how Astrid had, but only while the Nightmother was hidden. They would use this house as their base of operations until they were sure that Maven had lost interest in their sanctuary or they found a more suitable one. After finishing his explanation, he sent several of the initiates to post as guards, cleaning duty, or rest.

"One question, if I may," Babette spoke while yawning, "Why not just kill Maven? Surely it would be much less of a hassle to simply put her out of our misery."

"Yes, it may be. But simply killing such an influential Nord woman would bring unwanted attention towards us. We would lose many other contracts if some were to believe we killed a member of the Black Briar family. Yes, leaving her alive is the best. At least for now, but should she ever approach us again, you have my permission."

The three nodded in agreement and Dar Shavir motioned to a side room with several spare beds, letting Babette walk away for sleep. Closing the doors behind her, he turned just in time to hear his front entrance swing open. Heavy, quick footsteps of two initiates approached him dragging a pleading Breton by his shoulders while his feet slid behind them.

"What seems to be the problem?" Dar Shavir asked pleasantly, flashing the Breton a smile.

"Please! Let me go! I don't have any gold! I'm just a courier," the Breton sniffled as tears filled his eyes, having recognized the design on the armor of the two men dragging him.

"Oh? To whom are you delivering a letter to?"

"D-D-Dar Shavir!"

"Really? What A coincidence, I'm Dar Shavir," he motioned for the two to let the Breton up and held out his hand, "Now, if you would be so kind to give me the letter, else I have my Brothers take it from you."

The young man searched his pockets quickly, going from one to the other, from pocket to satchel and back again, fingers fumbling over themselves until he pulled out the letter and held it out to the Khajiit between his shaky fingers.

"P-please, don't kill the messenger!" he begged on his knees and looked up to Dar Shavir pitifully, desperately.

"Oh, don't worry my friend," Dar Shavir said smiling, setting the letter aside and held out his furry hand to help the man up, "I know better than to kill messengers."

"Really?" the man said incredulously, wiping tears and snot from his face, a cautiously optimistic smile gracing his face as he took Dar Shavir's hand and stood.

"Of course! I won't kill you because you're a messenger. I'm going to kill you because of what you witnessed," there was a spray of blood as his claws swiped through the air, cutting the Breton's neck open. Blood spilled from his neck, spraying lightly on the initiates who brought him in and pouring down his chest. He gripped the fur on the Khajiit's arm, falling back to his knees and holding his neck with his free hand. His face quickly turned pale as his blood drained from him, staining his shirt and pooling on the floor between them before giving his last gurgling, choking breath then collapsing, dead.

"Next time, just take the letter. No need for another to die," Dar Shavir said to the initiates as he washed his hands in the nearby basin, "Now, you two get rid of him then you will clean the floors before it starts to stink. Understood?"

"Yes sir!" the two who brought the poor fellow quickly picked up the corpse, carrying it out the door and into the woods

After cleaning his fur of blood for the second time that night, he turned and picked up the envelope. His whole body tensed, seeing the wax Black Briar seal, and he walked up to his room before opening it.

He sat on his bed and felt inside for a letter of some kind, but couldn't find any. Instead, a heavy metal ring slid out and onto his lap. Dar Shavir stared at it for a moment in disbelief. The ring was dirty, stained a rusty red from the obvious dried blood, but it matched his. He touched his own absent-mindedly, which was hung from a thin chain around his neck so as to make sure he never lost it and he could feel his husband close to his heart, even when they were not close.

With his free hand, he held it up and scraped away the blood and hoped to not see his Argonian's name engraved on the inside. He prayed quickly and silently to The Nine, to Nocturnal and Sithis. To all of the Daedric Prince's and all divines that he wouldn't see his loves name inscribed inside, but he knew before he saw it. It was Scout's.

His breath quickened and his vision became tunneled with fury. As if in a trance, his body moved on its own, far quicker than he had moved before. He raced down the stairs, shoving anyone in his path to the floor and ignoring any questions. Already, he could feel the fires of Oblivion welling up inside, calling out to him to take Maven, to cut her down, to make her suffer.

A thousand fantasies shot through his head, each more terrible than the last as his mind pondered over what she may have done, not just to his husband, but to his children. If she were to harm a single hair on his cub's heads, he would never kill her. He would tear open the Jaws of Oblivion himself and throw her to Mehrunes Dagon a thousand times.

"What are you doing, my friend?" a concerned voice called to him from below. He had made it up the tree to where he hid his armor. He said nothing, instead he grabbed his gear and jumped the entire way down, feeling nothing from the twenty-foot fall. Nazir backed away, seeing the anger in his friend's face; fangs bared, muzzle pulled back into a constant snarl and an anger built up inside he didn't think any man could have.

"Listener, what is the matter?" he opened his arms in a display of peace, showing he was unarmed and only wished to talk. The Khajiit stepped forward without changing his expression wrapping an arm over the Redguard's shoulder and pulling him in close to whisper in his ear.

"Do not follow me, but let the others know," he began, the words barely audible over the guttural growl coming from Dar Shavir, "Maven Black Briar will die!"

A horse's call echoed in the shadows, a malevolent neigh which chilled Nazir through. Shadowmere, the horse who was black as night, stood behind Dar Shavir, more ominous than ever. Before Nazir could say another word, Dar Shavir leaped onto the horse and dashed away; the perfect embodiment of Death towards a battle.